


john jacob jingleheimer schmidt

by katiesaygo



Category: Galavant (TV), Still Star-Crossed (TV)
Genre: F/F, Fairy Tale Elements, Pre-Slash, Wishes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-30
Updated: 2019-11-30
Packaged: 2021-03-06 04:54:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 940
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21615946
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/katiesaygo/pseuds/katiesaygo
Summary: One wish.That's all it takes for Isabella to lose everything—again.
Relationships: Isabella (Galavant)/Princess Isabella (Still Star-Crossed)
Comments: 2
Kudos: 3
Collections: femslashficlets: janelle monae lyric prompt challenge





	john jacob jingleheimer schmidt

**Author's Note:**

> written for the prompt _Galavant's Isabella thinks a poorly worded wish, and it's granted instantly. One Isabella goes to the other's universe, and together they track down the fairy that did this._ over at the [november nymphs and nixies](https://elasticella.dreamwidth.org/22891.html) ficathon
> 
> and for the femslashficlet's janelle monae prompt table: _Crown on my head but the world on my shoulder_

One wish.

That's all it takes for Isabella to lose everything—again.

First her kingdom had been conquered, her parents were held captive, she had to hide out alone toiling away thinking of a plan to save the day—and now she's lost, _literally_.

It's a bit shocking, going from doom and gloom cellar to sunny marketplace, and honestly if she weren't so glad to be rid of the ever-present rat stench—she'd be totally freaking out.

The buildings surrounding her aren't familiar at all, so she certainly isn't in Valencia.

She approaches a few people after trying to gauge whether they're King Richard's people or not, looking for directions or any inclination as to where she was in relation to Valencia, but none are of any help.

It wasn't exactly a conscious decision, enacting some sort of fairy deal for the Jewel of Valencia.

“I wish there were two Princess Isabella's, so I'd have an actual chance at saving the Kingdom.”

She hadn't even said it _out loud_, ugh, fairies are the worst.

Isabella should've listened to her mother's nagging and turned her coat inside out or eaten a button, whatever the superstition was.

It must be noon by the time she manages to get a decent tip and locate the palace.

“My name is Princess Isabella Maria Lucia Elisabetta of Valencia,” she announces—voice loud, back straight, head high—when she's denied entry, “and I demand to speak to someone.”

She's prepared to huff and puff for hours, was awarded 'best royal tantrums' as a child, eventually though, a woman comes out to meet her.

The two size each other up, though Isabella's afraid hers is more open-mouth gawking than the quiet scrutiny the other woman wields so elegantly.

“Princess Isabella, I presume?” Her lips form a tight smile and Isabella can't look away, wonders at the color.

She nods, dips into a curtsy, trying subtly to wipe the sweat from her palms.

“We have that in common then,” the woman replies and Isabella's confused for a moment before she realizes how very wrong her wish had gone.

.

They decide she, Isabella of Valencia, will go by Izzy for clarity's sake.

“So, you see,” Izzy wraps up, having just spent an inordinate amount of time filling Isabella in on the trajedy of her current living situation, “a fairy brought me here in exchange for a priceless family heirloom and now I must find them and get them to send me back so I may rescue my family.”

Izzy takes a deep breath. Wow, the rush of a well delivered monologue really hit the spot and lifted the spirits.

“A fairy?” Isabella repeats, incredulity cloaked beneath politeness.

And Izzy's spirits plummet once more, “Have you not seen one around?”

“Well, no, I'm afraid we don't have fairies at all.”

Her world flips, and Isabella leads them to a bench a little ways off, hand gentle on Izzy's as she entreats her to sit.

There are a few silent moments where she tries to wrap her head around how to return to and save Valencia without the crucial fairy part of the equation.

“I will not claim to understand your circumstances entirely, but I swear on my name that I will try to help you find your home...Izzy.”

Isabella ducks her head, lashes long against her cheeks and smile like the cresting sun.

Izzy's palms start sweating again, despite the chill settling in the air.

“If you need something more pleasant to keep your mind occupied for the night,” Isabella continues, much to the distress of Izzy's respitory system, “we're throwing a ball, I'd—”

Izzy springs up from the bench, “A ball!”

“Forgive me, Princess,” she turns to Isabella, who looks thoroughly confused, “I didn't mean to interupt, but if there's any chance of finding this fairy—it's at the ball. They _love_ balls.”

The smile she earns from Isabella is more amused this time around, “They do?”

“Oh, yeah, fairies are _super _tacky.”

Although, Izzy has to admit, she's looking forward to it herself.

She can't wait to see what the musical numbers are like in Verona.

.

It isn't until Isabella's locked away in her Hortensian pink prison that their universes cross paths again.

She's sitting in front of the vanity mirror, trying with all her might to ignore the reflection of the Jester's unnerving puppet show when the image suddenly shifts.

“Isabella!”

Izzy's afraid for a moment that she's startled the other princess into an early grave—sighs in relief and uses the next breath to tell the Jester to beat it.

She'd had her mind opened to the world of magic briefly when they'd caught the fairy trying to grant some poor girl's wishes and convinced her to reverse the wish—not an easy feat in the least—but it seems the novelty hasn't yet worn off.

“Remarkable, Izzy, have you been learning magic since you've been back?”

“This?,” she waves away the thought, “No, it wasn't me—there must've been some residual magic stored in my necklace from the fairy sent me home, that activated with both of us in front of mirrors!”

Isabella's brows furrow, “You weren't wearing a necklace, that I recall.”

“I definitely was!” She fusses with the jewel, “I was basically born in it.”

They catch up on other matters, and before long Izzy finds herself struck with an idea.

“You know, Princess, I'm in a bit of sticky situation again—can I pick that strategic brain of yours?”

There's an eagarness to Isabella's grin that has Izzy leaning closer to the mirror.

(And wiping her palms on the Jester's puppets.)


End file.
